Elizabeth Darcy looked out upon the rain and sighed. April was known for rain; the weather was no surprise. But the day already had such a sense of sorrow for her that she had wished for sunshine to wash away those unpleasant memories.

One year ago, she had thrown it all away. Most of the time, her sunny nature did not allow her to remember just how foolish, vain, and prejudiced she had been. But today, with its overcast sky and its malignant date, reminded her of how close she had come to complete misery.

Only one thing kept her from being in a completely revolting mood. As she cradled her hand over her stomach secretly, she smiled. She was not certain; nay, she only had begun to suspect. But would it not be wonderful to wipe away the negative connotations of this day by sharing those suspicions with her dear husband?

She allowed her maid to help her dress in a comfortable, sedate dress. Mr. Darcy had informed her, as he left their bed that morning, that he had a very busy day in front of him. Meetings with various people throughout the property would keep him completely occupied, though his tone and general mien assured her that he wished it to be otherwise. Neither of them had mentioned the date, though she knew it had been on his mind also - the passion they had shared that morning had somehow been more tender and more poignant than usual, and as they lay in the comfortable afterglow, neither had seemed to want to let go. But duty called, as it always does, and it was with no little amount of regret that their private time had come to an end.

Walking through the halls of Pemberley, Elizabeth reflected on the changes that had occurred in the last year. She never would have expected, while visiting Rosings, that she would someday be mistress of an estate of similar magnitude (though her entirely prejudiced mind believed Pemberley to be the more elegant of the two). Mrs. Reynolds and the rest of the Pemberley staff had made her transition smooth, and the tenants and local residents had been uniformly warm and welcoming Mr. Darcy's new wife.

Her life was a blessed one, she knew that. She did not know what she had done to deserve such fortune, but she knew she would never forget that she was indeed quite fortunate. She also knew that her fortune was mostly comprised of the wonderful life-mate that she had been paired with, not the material comfort she now enjoyed.

She smiled at that thought, trying once again to put the bad memories in perspective, and went to meet with Mrs. Reynolds.

Keeping herself busy was never a challenge to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and it was less of a challenge for Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. The huge estate could, in truth, practically run itself because of the most excellent staff that Mr. Darcy had in place, but Elizabeth was never one to sit back and let others do all the work. She had immersed herself in learning all that she could about the running of the household and how the family interacted with the tenants. Beyond her personal hobbies and habits, she never lacked for occupation. On this day, she threw herself into these workings with vigor, to keep her mind occupied. For the most part, it worked.

As she dressed for dinner, Elizabeth once again smiled at how she would present her little. . . possibility to her husband. She thought it must be nerves that made her so unwilling to eat.

Darcy entered her dressing room just as her maid was putting the finishing touches on Elizabeth's hair. He sighed as he observed the gentle beauty of his wife, and reminded himself once again at how lucky he was, and how different this day was from the one a year previous.

Guiding his wife to the dining room, Darcy did not know what to say. Words seemed, somehow, not enough to demonstrate his emotions. As he guided Elizabeth to her chair, he lifted her hand to his lips, bestowing on her small, cool fingers a kiss that somehow conveyed ardor and gratitude. She turned her hand in his and stroked his cheek, smiling softly into his eyes. It was enough.

As they dined, they did manage to converse reasonably with Georgiana. If the younger girl noticed that topics shifted almost randomly, or that there was an almost viable undercurrent between her brother and his wife, she was much too polite to say anything.

When dinner ended, they adjourned to the library. Neither Darcy nor Elizabeth was in the mood for music or discussion, and Georgiana excused herself quite early.

As his sister left the room, Darcy stood and walked to his wife. "Are you, too, ready to retire, my darling?" He held out a hand to her.

Elizabeth smiled and accepted his hand. As he pulled her from the setee, he guided her into his arms. Enveloping her in his strong arms, he nuzzled into the bend of her neck, inhaling the scent of her.

"William," she sighed, hugging him in return. Again, words seemed to only intrude on the peace that surrounded them.

And then it somehow went horribly wrong.

The slight upset stomach and backache of the afternoon suddenly became much worse, and Elizabeth tensed in her husband's arms as a terrible cramp racked her.

"Elizabeth?"

Shaking her head and catching her breath, she began to reassure him, "I'm fine it's just a. . ." and suddenly, another cramp rolled through her back and stomach, taking her breath with its intensity.

By the time her maid had been called, she could feel the warm gushing between her legs. Having lived in the country, she was not so innocent as many gentlewomen might be. Tears filled her eyes as she realized her suspicions had been, most likely, correct, but they were now all for naught.

Darcy was approaching a full panic. His wife was crying and in pain, and he had no idea what to do for her. Lifting her in his arms, he cradled her as she cried into his shoulder. Mrs. Reynolds, who had heard the commotion and understood its ramifications when she entered the room and viewed the stain on Mrs. Darcy's skirts, ordered the maid to prepare a bath for the mistress.

When she was once again clean, in a warm nightgown with a warm brick to ease the cramping, Elizabeth allowed herself to be guided to their bed. Darcy had waited for her for what seemed to be an eternity, and when she had lain down, he quietly gathered her into his embrace. He rubbed her back as she began to cry again, and somehow, without being told, he knew what had happened. His heart wept with her, but aloud he was all consolation.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth, all will be well."

"William," she sniffed, "I am so sorry. I am so, so very sorry. This vile, wretched day. I hate this day." Anger and disappointment laced her voice.

Darcy said nothing, knowing nothing he could say would be of any aid. All he could do was silently hold her and try to will his strength and love into her.

"I so wanted to erase the bad memories of this day with good ones. I was going to tell you tonight. And it is all gone now, and this day is even worse than before." Though her thoughts and words were all scrambled, Darcy understood what Elizabeth was trying to say. He was touched in a way he had not previously been, and his heart ached anew, not just for their loss, but for Elizabeth's pain. He sought a way to reassure her.

"But Elizabeth, darling, it is so much better than last year. Don't you see?" He tugged her chin up so that she would look at him. "A year ago, the pain in my heart was great, but I had to bear it alone, with no hope that it would ever be alleviated. This pain is awful, but we have each other to help shoulder the burden. No?"

Elizabeth swallowed, sniffed, and hiccupped a little, silent. Thinking further on it, she decided he was right. They had each other, which was more than she had ever dreamed she would have through that awful April of the previous year. And though this loss was great, she had the companion of her heart next to her, sharing the pain, easing the load. And when she cried again, it was a cleansing; the tears were sad, but they were not bitter.

One Year Later

Elizabeth sighed and stretched, listening to the sound of rain on the bedroom windows. She cautiously rolled to her side to see her husband already awake and alert, watching her.

"I will never understand what you find so fascinating about watching your spouse sleep, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Gathering his sleep-warmed wife close to his body, he whispered into her hair, "It never ceases to amaze me how peaceful you are in repose, and how the energy simply flows into you as you wake. You never cease to amaze me, and I feel my love for you grow every day."

"Pretty speech, sir," Elizabeth stretched a bit more, and winced. "But I am sure that I am still no sight to behold, having so little sleep last night and all nights in this past fortnight!"

"Is it so terrible, then?" Darcy asked while rubbing his wife's back through her nightgown.

"No, no, I would not trade the experience for the world, husband. Not for the world." Smiling, Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned into Darcy's chest. A small noise from the side of the bed forced her eyes open again.

"Ahh, the heir awakens," Darcy chuckled. "No, no, stay there," he said to Elizabeth, "I shall bring him to you."

Defying all convention, Darcy had moved Elizabeth back into their shared chamber within a few days of the birth of their son. He had a small cradle put into the room with them so that she could always be cognizant of her son's needs, and Darcy could partake in the most precious moments of his growing family's life.

As Elizabeth placed the freshly-changed infant at her breast, her eyes filled with tears. Darcy looked with wonder upon his wife and son, both so strong and pure, and smiled. He leaned next to the bed, softly touching his son's head and kissing his wife. They shared a knowing smile.

The memories of the past would always be there, but daily they were being put into perspective by the beautiful life they shared. April would come and bring showers, but May would come, also, and bring sunshine. And whether showers or sunshine, they would weather it together.